


Parallel Universe

by Popcorn_Lover



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:36:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcorn_Lover/pseuds/Popcorn_Lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens if Molly Hooper of the 21st century met Sherlock Holmes of the Victorian times?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Totally Different World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

Molly Hooper struggled against the hold of Moriarty but to no avail for he was stronger than he looked. “Who do we have here? Mousy Molly! One more incentive for you to kill yourself right here and now, Sherlock. Unless you would like to enjoy the spectacular showcase of this little pathologist’s brain spraying out like a waterfall.” Moriarty pressed the gun to her head to emphasis his point.

Molly wished she had the courage to confess to Sherlock about her feelings for him even though she knew it was probably unrequited. Molly also wished if everything could start all over again, she would do whatever it takes to prevent Moriarty from ever coming close to Sherlock but now it was not too late. The consulting criminal could still be stopped.

Sherlock standing a distance away from them seemed composed at the turn of events but his eyes barely concealed the hint of desperation in him. Molly knew they were standing near enough the rooftop ledge and needed just a little external force to fall off it so taking in a deep breath; she leaned all her weight on Moriarty and the two of them went plunging down. It was true what people said about your entire life flashing through the mind when you were about to die and Molly found that Sherlock was surprisingly quite involved in hers.

Stunned, the consulting detective urgently ran towards them but he was no match for gravity. Sherlock bent over the ledge with his arms stretched out and waving about but all his hands could grasp was the cold air. Throughout the seven seconds of her fall, Molly managed to lock eyes with Sherlock as she gave him a warm albeit sad smile.

The pedestrians gathered around as doctors and nurses rushed out from St. Bart's in an attempt to save them. Sherlock Holmes believed that his was among the shouts heard and perhaps the loudest.

 

* * *

 

She could hear a horse protested loudly in response to the reins being pulled back abruptly. Instinctively, Molly squatted down; arms covering the head for protection as the hoofs of said horse narrowly missed her. Bewildered, Molly sat right down in the middle of the cobbled street as her weakened legs gave way while the driver fanatically tried to calm down the horse.  

Scarcely recovered from the many events that seemed to happen all at the same time, Molly noticed the air smelt different. It faintly smelt of urine, rotten meat, defecates and other unpleasant things that she did not want to further identify. She then took a double look at her surroundings and was speechless. This was not London, at least not the 21st century that she was familiar with.      

“Are you alright, Miss? You should know better than to recklessly dash out onto the streets.” The passengers in the carriage alighted and walked towards Molly.

“Sherlock? John? Where…I-I…What…” She stared at the duo that looked just like them except they were dressed in Victorian clothing, wearing top hats and such with a pipe in their hands. None of this made sense to Molly. One moment she was falling from the building and the next she’s here, in a totally different world. The turmoil proved too much for Molly so her body had no choice but to shut down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should take a break from writing but I could not stop myself. I'm asking for trouble, trying to write the Victorian times and definitely biting more than I could chew...


	2. 221B Baker Street

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

Being a physician, Watson immediately went up to the lady and took her pulse while checking for any visible injuries. “She must have fainted due to shock, nothing too serious. However one could not help but noticed her attire is quite different, Holmes?”

“Most astute of observations, Watson.” The consulting detective concurred sardonically. The hansom cab effectively blocked the entire street and complaints could be heard with words used best not repeated. Looking at the growing crowd behind his shoulder, the doctor made a quick decision and picked up Molly. He carefully placed the unconscious woman inside the carriage then climbed in.

“Come on Holmes, before we got ourselves surrounded by an angry mob any moment now.” Watson popped his head out of the cab and called for his roommate. Holmes walked back to the carriage and cocked his head to one side, asking a silent question. “A gentleman does not ignore a lady in need of assistance. Besides, her plight was our fault to a certain extent. I know it would be bit of a squeeze for the three of us but Baker Street is not very far.”

Hearing that, Holmes had to choice but to oblige though not without grumbling about it. “I forgot about your penchant for rescuing damsels in distress, Watson. Hence your alleged popularity with the women.” The doctor knocked on the wall behind them, a signal for the driver to move on. Once the street was no longer obstructed, the rest of the Londoners went on with their everyday lives like nothing had happened.

The hansom cab arrived at the doorstep and Billy, Holmes’ page ran out to receive them. “Who’s tis lady, Sir?” The boy asked curiously as Watson carried the still-unconscious Molly out of the carriage and up the stairs. “According to Watson, a lady that requires of our help. All in a day’s work of being a gentleman, Billy.”

The commotion attracted the attention of their landlady but was swiftly reassured by Holmes. “Nothing to worry about, Mrs Hudson. Let us not disrupt your daily schedule of needlework, gossiping and consumption of tea with scones.”

To make sure that the lady was not seriously harmed by injuries not spotted by his previous brief examination thus led to her current state of unconsciousness, Watson placed her in the guest room to take her pulse again and once more checked the mysterious woman as thoroughly as propriety would allow. Amidst his ministrations, Molly started to regain consciousness and unsteadily trying to push herself up using her elbows.

Pleased, Watson assisted her to sit up and lean on the headboard. “How are you feeling, Miss? Any discomfort, aches or nausea?” The woman shook her head. “That’s a relief to know. I’m Dr John Watson and he’s Sherlock Holmes.” He pointed at the man at the entrance of the room. “If you could give us your address, we could then inform your family to fetch you home.”

Molly looked up from her lap and answered softly. “I’m...Molly, Molly Hooper and that’s all I could remember. I’m sorry…” Holmes made not a comment or reaction of any kind towards her declaration. “I see. I think it would be best if we discussed this matter later on. Don’t worry too much, Miss Hooper. What’s important is for you to have enough rest first and foremost.” Watson gave a very doctor-ish pat on her shoulder and retired from the room, pulling Holmes with him into the sitting room.

“This is most strange, Holmes. Miss Hooper did not incur any injuries yet she suffered from amnesia. What are we to do now? Did you manage to deduce any information about her aside from the peculiar outfit she was wearing?” The consulting detective sat so still in his chair, the doctor thought he was in his mind palace again.

Seeing as of now there was not much that could be done about the situation on hand, Watson with his easy-going nature, else how he could have managed to keep himself sane when living with Sherlock Holmes, took it in his stride and began to read _The Times_. “But of course Miss Hooper would remain as a guest in our humble abode until she recovered her memory, Watson. Nothing less of what a gentleman in our shoes would do.”

“Holmes, is that even proper?” The doctor voiced out his concerns which the other man waved them off lazily. “Refrain from being under the delusion that we are conventional by any standards determined by this society. It does no good to one’s state of mind.” Convinced, Watson nodded his consent and replied causally, “Well, what harm would there be in it?” After all, it simply would not do for them to chase the poor lady who had amnesia out of their residence. “What harm indeed.” Holmes muttered while smoking his pipe.

 

* * *

 

Alone in the room, Molly tried her best to analyse the current circumstances. First, she was held hostage by Moriarty and in a desperate attempt to ruin his plan, Molly made the both of them fall off St. Bart's. Then, instead of ended up being dead, she somehow came to either the Regency or Victorian era, Doctor Who style of time travelling. And this era also happened to have Sherlock and John. Did that mean Moriarty exist in here too?

She could well be dead in that world but here, Molly was given a second chance to prevent history from repeating itself but they would not believe her. Who in their right mind would take the word seriously of someone who proclaimed to have come from a different world? They might even bring her to a mental institution for all she knew. What Molly could do now was to take things a step at a time and apparently having to continue with her sham amnesia.

The door was knocked before opening and Mrs Hudson came into the room. Molly pretended not to recognize her. “Oh, you poor dear. Dr Watson had told me all about it. I’m Mrs Hudson, their landlady and I brought some clothes for you to change into. When my daughter got married, she left some of hers here and I should think you would fit into them.”

Staring at the garments that she only saw on period dramas, Molly fully understood just how far she was away from home. She knew all these people yet the fact that they did not know her made Molly felt truly lost. “If you have the strength to get up, maybe I could help you with the changing, Miss Hooper?” Sensing the lady’s distress, the motherly side of Mrs Hudson was brought out.

“Please, call me Molly and thank you. You are very kind, Mrs Hudson.” Touched, Molly encouraged herself to look on the bright side of things. She did envision herself to be the female lead when reading historical romance novels so in a way, her dream came true. Just that Molly was sensible enough to not expect any courting or wooing involved, in particular from Mr Sherlock Holmes.

“How convenient your memory was lost when you wore such strange apparels, Molly. Nothing I ever seen before but fret not, our Mr Holmes is an excellent consulting detective whose brilliance almost made up for his lack of manners and would be able to help in regards to your forgotten identity. He is quite the eccentric man but paid no heed to his sometimes awfully rude remarks for deep down, he is a big softie.” Molly smiled at Mrs Hudson’s speech. It would seem that Sherlock Holmes in the 19th century was no different from the 21st century one.

“And one is considered polite when talking behind the back of others, Mrs Hudson? I believed Miss Hooper had enough of your incessant clucking to last for a lifetime.” Both of the women jumped, not realizing that the consulting detective had been standing by the door for some time now. “ Respect, Mr Holmes, respect! A lady is in the midst of changing, for goodness’ sake.”

“Terribly sorry, Miss Hooper. I reacted slow and failed to stop Holmes from barging in. Are you, erm, decent now?” Brushing off exasperations from Mrs Hudson and Watson, Holmes rolled his eyes and clarified. “If you all must know, I did knock and entered after hearing no objections. Not need to paint me as a scoundrel that indulged in nudity of others.”

“That is not how knocking actually works, Holmes. Never mind, I would explain it to you afterwards. It is important now especially when we are going to have a lady residing in our quarters. Miss Hooper, the best and only solution we could think of was for you to stay here until your memory returned. If you are comfortable with the arrangements, that is.” Well, this might not be the world Molly was used to but the people whom she knew were just as nice as they were back there.

“Thank you, I think that’s all I could say, thank you but I would not be a free lodger. I could help in the cleaning, washing and cooking, whatever that needs to be done in this household. Also, call me Molly please, I insist.” At least she was able to remain close to them and even keep a lookout for what was to come.

“We shall not further disturb and leave you to rest, Molly. Who knows, your memory might just come back anytime.” The doctor’s benign smile sent a blow to Molly’s heart at the thought of her deceit whereas the forthright stare from the consulting detective made her heart ran a thousand miles for a very different and frankly wrong reason.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believed these are my Victorian dialogues at best and if you were looking for a more authentic one, I apologize. Hope the characters are not too OOC!


	3. You Intrigue Me, Truly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

The next few days passed by peacefully, as peacefully as living with a consulting detective could be. The duo’s routine was quite standard. After breakfast, they would head out to investigate various commissioned cases and usually would settle their lunch outside so Molly and Mrs Hudson only had to prepare dinner for them.

As for the cleaning, Molly was glad that being a chemist graduate, she could safely distinguish between the hazardous and not so hazardous chemicals from the consulting detective’s many experiments found scattered around the flat. During the afternoons, Mrs Hudson would always invite Molly for tea and that was when two unknown men entered the house.      

“Who are you? What do you want?” The ladies stood up from the chairs and Molly pushed Mrs Hudson behind her. She was sure that the men were not Sherlock’s clients otherwise they would have knocked on the door and not sauntered in like they owned the place. “Our chief would like to speak to you, Miss Hooper. If you would kindly cooperate and come with us.” One of them went to grab her wrist.

_“Sherlock, what harm could I possibly ever face?” Molly questioned while at the same time was thinking to herself which takeaway to have for dinner. She gotten to the final stage of choosing between Chinese and Japanese, it was a tough decision, when out of the blue Sherlock grabbed her right wrist tightly._

_“What the…let go of my hand, Sherlock. William Sherlock Scott Holmes, let me go now!” Astounded, Molly tried to tug free of his hold but that man was definitely not making it any easier._

_“Shouting the assailant’s full name, contrary to popular beliefs, would not magically make the attacker release you, Molly. You are smarter than that. Now you see the need to learn self-defence? Even more so with you being small in size.” If anything, Sherlock’s words fuelled her anger. Molly gritted and protested loudly._

_“I’m not small!”_

_“Petite then, dainty even if you ask me”_

_“They meant the bloody same thing!”_

_“Remember, Molly, the three areas of contact for maximum effect. Eyes, throat and groin. This is for you to gain more time in running away, not actually to fight.” Sherlock held her left wrist without letting go of the other one and pointed to himself._

_“Eyes.” Molly always liked to think of herself drowning into his beautiful eyes._

_“Throat.” If she could, Molly would love to bite that neck of his, right where the pulse throb, which at the moment was irritatingly under the protection of a scarf. As if sensing her not so innocent thoughts, Sherlock cleared his throat._

_“Groin.” Suddenly the touch of his hand felt like scalding metal on her wrist. “Your heartbeat is racing, Molly.” Sometimes she wondered if Sherlock was really that oblivious or merely pretending because it was the easy way out for him._

_The spell broke off when he abruptly dropped both of Molly’s wrists and marched down the long corridor. “Why teach me this?”_

_“Because you do count, Molly.” Sherlock’s reply might be soft nevertheless she heard him. Molly stopped herself from asking what he meant by that. She had a craving for fried noodles so in the end Molly ordered Chinese takeaway. It was overall a strange night, not one to forget._

Time seemed to slow down as Molly recalled the self-defence lesson taught orally by Sherlock. Before her mind could react to the danger, Molly had already spilled the hot contents of the tea cup onto the man’s eyes, punched his throat to constrict the airway and kneed him in the groin. Shocked at her own reflexes, Molly found the poor man on the ground, groaning painfully and tried to apologize to him but was stopped when the other man grabbed her from behind.

_If necessary, play dirty._

It was as though her body was on autopilot as Molly banged the back of her head hard against him. “Ow! That really hurts!” She went to rub her bruised head when a male scream was accompanied with her release. Molly turned around and cringed when she saw the damage done by her, blood gushing out of his nose. First thought that came to her mind was to help stop the bleeding but she remembered just in time that they were in fact the bad guys.

“And here I thought we needed to rescue the damsel in distress once again, Miss Hooper but it would seem that you were perfectly alright on your own.” Holmes stepped over the man still lying on the floor and stopped right in front of Molly, holding her shoulders. It was close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from him. “Miss Hooper, you made my day.” Confused, Molly frowned at Holmes which he gave her a smile in return that reminded her of Sherlock’s genuine but rare ones.

“No injuries sustained by Miss Hooper, Watson. Not even a scratch. By their pained expressions, I would think that they regretted ever coming here.” Holmes spoke over his shoulder to the doctor who was busy examining the intruders. “I did not wish to sound uncaring towards Molly for it would be untrue but right now I’m more concerned about them.” Watson looked up and winked at her. The gesture did not comfort Molly at all.

“Apologies, Miss Hooper. I believed my orders were not properly understood by my subordinates and their injuries were wholly the product of their own folly. You need not feel bad for them. Leave us; you two were an utter embarrassment.” No wonder the duo were so at ease with what happened. The one responsible for this was Mycroft Holmes, the British Government. Regardless, it was nice to see another familiar face in this world.

“You would stay away from Miss Hooper. If she was a threat, you would never let her stepped a foot into 221B, not to mention allowing her to stay here for days now. Admit it, you found nothing worthy of attention about her but you simply could not be proven wrong thus your pathetic attempt to seek contact with her when we were away.” Holmes relished the defeat of his elder brother and found it not beneath him to proudly display it but was careful in not letting their conversation being heard by others present.

“Sherlock, we found _nothing_ about her. We could not even trace her origins; it came up a blank piece of paper. It was as if that woman never existed which itself was not a reasonable cause for alarm? Do not forget you have a foe lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike at the right time!” Mycroft Holmes might have the brains, power and some say looks but he was no expert in relationships of any kind, especially kinship.

Holmes pursed his lips in response. “I would be the judge of that, brother mine. Leave. Her. Alone. Unless you would want Mother Dearest to be alerted of this matter at once.”

“Tea and scones anyone? You all must be tired from such exhausting activities.” Mrs Hudson brought out the tray and beckoned everyone. She must have gotten used to intruders by now.

“No, Mrs Hudson!”

“No, Mrs Hudson!”

“One more time and I would have no choice but to inform your mother about it.” The landlady tut-tutted and warned the brothers. Both of them turned their heads back, ignoring Mrs Hudson’s comment and gave each other one final glare before the British Government waltzed out of the house with his cane hitting the ground rhythmically while the consulting detective walked up the stairs with his coat swishing about.

The doctor followed Holmes after answering, “Thank you, Mrs Hudson but we were still quite full from the heavy lunch we had earlier on.” The landlady turned her eyes on Molly and powerless to an elderly lady’s request, she continued the tea session with Mrs Hudson. There was no reason not to anyway. Like what Holmes always said, “All in a day’s work.”

 

* * *

 

Molly was not tired so she opted to sit on one of the chairs in the sitting room. Night had long fallen and the flat was engulfed in darkness save for the low burning fire. The other residents were already in their beds so Molly would have to make do with the crackling sound of ember for company.

“Unable to sleep, Miss Hooper?” It would seem that she was not alone then.

“You too, Mr Holmes?” It took Molly only a day to be given the permission from the doctor to address by his given name but the same could not be said for the consulting detective so to be on the safe side, she followed the way Mrs Hudson called him.

“Could I have some of that brandy too?” The glass was placed precariously on the arm of his chair and the golden liquid in it glowed against the fire. Molly thought of how she never tasted brandy before and politely asked Holmes for it. She was rewarded with one of his direct stares, like he was trying to deduce the reason behind everything. Holmes was never comfortable with not knowing, particularly those he had an interest in.

He got out of his chair and poured two fingers of brandy into the glass before walking back to the fireplace. Molly reached out for the drink and their fingers touched. “You intrigue me, truly.” She nearly dropped her glass at his statement. Molly held the drink with both hands and took a careful sip. Tasty. “There is nothing special about me.”

“I beg to differ, Miss Hooper.” Holmes stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles; enjoying the warmth from the fire. If people did not know any better, they would interpret this whole scene as domestic bliss. “Like John and Mrs Hudson, you could call Molly.” She tried to break the barrier with him through the bold suggestion.

“Addressing one by their given name indicates intimacy and I for one, do not favour it.” Molly was not surprised.

“Caring is not an advantage huh?” And Holmes expertly hid his behind the mask.

“Watson was always better at human relations hence his popularity with people in general.” It must be hard being Sherlock Holmes, wanting something so badly but did not know how to get it then having to lie to himself that he never wanted it in the first place, Molly thought.

“And you are not? Scores of women must have adored you for your intelligence, good looks and you representing the good fighting against evil but of course they would need to overlook your occasional rude behaviour." Molly managed to say it without sounding like a jealous shrew. This time, Holmes did not hide his astonishment. “Miss Hooper, you are most certainly different from other women. Your candour is refreshing, to say the least. I might be on the side of angels but do not ever mistaken me for being one.”

“Must be because of me coming from a different world and by angels you meant cherubs with rosy chubby cheeks and curls?” Molly chuckled at the mental image and added an afterthought. “Although you could consider the curls, women would probably all the more admire you.” She stood up from the chair. “Thank you for your drink, Mr Holmes. Good night.” Molly returned the glass to the consulting detective and retired to her room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could think of nothing to say except enjoy!


	4. Loved Him Like She Was Going to Lose Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

The crisp cold air welcomed Molly when she stepped out of 221B. It was barely daybreak so there were not many people on the streets. “Fresh milk for the day!” The milkman exclaimed in a jovial manner. Molly smiled courteously. “Thank you.” But she was stopped when trying to carry the milk back into the house.

“Pardon me, Miss but I did not recall seeing you in this neighbourhood before or else I would have noticed.” The man questioned with a blush. “I’m a maid, just recently employed.” She answered. Remembering that there were still many orders to fulfil, he replied hurriedly. “Well then, hopefully I would see you more often. Good day, Miss.” The milkman tipped his cap towards her and ran off.  

Molly and Holmes broke their fast quietly so the doctor filled up the silence with his mostly one-sided of conversation regarding the weather, progress of the investigations and politics. Watson might not be a consulting detective but he could clearly feel the slightly abnormal atmosphere yet unable to put his finger on it and it continued right up till breakfast ended.

After sending the duo off, Molly called out to Billy. “Do you know how I could contact Mycroft Holmes? It’s urgent.” The little boy thought about it for a while. “You had been very nice to me, Miss so I would tell you but if others asked, do not say it was Billy who told you so. Master Holmes did not have a good relationship with his brother. You could try your luck at the Diogenes Club but only gentlemen were allowed in.”

“I would think of something, Billy. Thank you, you are an angel.” Molly kissed his forehead and gave him a sweet.

Molly adjusted her moustache and outfit before walking up to the entrance of Diogenes Club and handed Holmes’ calling card to the attendant. Molly explained in a low voice, “I’m on behalf of my master to pass an exceedingly important message to Mycroft Holmes.” The man stared at Molly for so long, she thought that maybe her moustache was pasted upside down, before he went in with the card and said to her, “Wait here.”

For what seemed like an eternity, the attendant finally came back and begrudgingly led the way for Molly. Inside were men sitting in groups or by themselves either reading the newspapers, smoking cigars, drinking brandy or talking. The British Government was found to be sitting alone at the far end of the club and reading The Guardian. Sensing someone standing in front of him, Mycroft Holmes lowered his newspaper. He merely raised his eyebrow at Molly’s disguise and waved to the chair next to his then nodded at the attendant, dismissing him.

“Moriarty…he’s not far away and the consulting detective is extremely close to danger right?” A flicker of anger lit up in the British Government’s eyes. “If I really wanted to harm Sherlock Holmes, I would not have informed you, would I? I know you do not trust me but take my word for it when I say I love him very much and just like you, my only intention is to protect him. Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying, Mr. Holmes.”

“You are a remarkable woman, Miss Hooper, that I would give you due credit.” He leaned back into the chair comfortably. “Go on then, share your thoughts on how to deal with Moriarty which I assumed was the reason you came to me.”

“Discredit Sherlock Holmes; let everyone believed he was a fraud, that the cases he solved were actually staged by him and throw him into jail. Holmes would be safe there with you watching over. Moriarty would never stand for someone else to destroy the consulting detective because only he could do it. For that, he would make a mistake and yours to capture. Sherlock Holmes would then return to society with his reputation intact after letting the world know of Moriarty’s crimes that included his latest and unsuccessful attempt of ruining the consulting detective by framing him with false allegations.”

“Pray tell how could you be so sure that Moriarty would err?” Mycroft Holmes probed cynically.

“He would, one way or another.” Molly spoke with such certainty that the British Government decided to give her the benefit of doubt.

 

* * *

 

The same night Watson was called away to a home visit in Leicester where the patient was the doctor’s captain when he was in the army so, “It was vital for me to go post-haste and I would expect to be back about a week later, Holmes, depending on his condition which based on the telegraph was not too good.” The remaining residents in 221B were Molly and Holmes as Mrs Hudson also happened to be away, visiting her daughter and grandchildren in Bedfordshire.

She was impressed with the British Government’s efficiency. Within three days, the consulting detective was accused as a fake. To prevent Watson from coming to Holmes’ rescue, the press was suppressed for the time being. With the ‘evidence’ against him quickly piling up, it was clear to Holmes that it was just a matter of time Scotland Yard would arrest him. The world could well believe of what they wanted to foolishly believe so long he knew the truth and that was all it mattered, at least that was what he told himself.

Everything was going according to plan and it hurt Molly more than she could ever imagine because she knew very well it was hurting him even though the man pretended otherwise, like nothing was wrong. Molly was essentially gambling on Holmes’ life so if things went wrongly, his demise would be ensured and that knowledge kept her awake throughout the nights.

Insomnia was making Molly edgy so she walked out of her room, wanting to take a respite from the oppressing situation but stopped herself when Molly found the consulting detective staring into space in an almost wistful manner that strangely reminded her of Peter Pan.

“I once…saw a friend of mine with that same expression on his face. He looked sad…”

“Miss Hooper.” Holmes tried to interrupt her but Molly disregarded his warning tone and pushed on.

“ _You_ looked sad.” The consulting detective then turned to her, daring Molly to continue. “If you need anything, anything at all, all you have to do is ask.”

“I appreciate your kind gesture, Miss Hooper but I have no need for anything.” Even at this stage Holmes was still so stubborn and Molly was frustrated but she did saw it coming. “Of course. Good night then, Mr Holmes.”    

She was already in her night clothes, preparing for bed no matter how futile in getting any sleep. “I apologized for my rude behaviour earlier on, Miss Hooper. You were right, I am far from well. I feared that my reputation had been tarnished.”

The sense of déjà vu overwhelmed Molly as she turned around to better see Holmes in the fairly dark room. “What do you need?”

“You.” Then the consulting detective shall have what he asked for.

Molly closed the distance between them in three steps and crashed her lips to his. She poured out all her emotions and translated them into actions. Neither disguised the abandonment, urgency and desperation found in their body languages where instead they embraced the presence, not willing to be swallowed up by it. Moments later, they were both naked and walked back to the bed.

Panting and perspiring, Molly looked right into Holmes’ eyes when he entered her. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.” She confessed. "You fascinated me when I first laid my eyes on you for I could not deduce anything about you." He admitted. The dam broke loose and during the process, Molly and Holmes were successful in finding themselves and each other. They were finally complete.

 

* * *

 

It was dawn when a succession of knocks was sounded. On her right, Holmes was sleeping soundly which was rare for the consulting detective so Molly got up from the bed as quietly as possible in hopes of him getting more rest since it was still early and went to answer the door.

It was Greg except this version of him had sideburns. Massive sideburns. If the situation was not serious, Molly would have laugh out loud on the spot. “Is Sherlock Holmes in residence? I am Detective Inspector Lestrade of the Scotland Yard.” He introduced himself reluctantly.

“You require of my presence to follow you back to Scotland Yard for further questioning, Lestrade?” Out of nowhere, Holmes appeared fully dressed and asked calmly as he had expected for this day to come. Lestrade gravely nodded and unwillingly signaled to his subordinates to take the consulting detective away but chose not to handcuff him out of respect then Holmes left with them without a backward glance.

Molly looked down at the doorstep and frowned when she realized that the milk had yet to be delivered.  

 

* * *

 

Unlike Baker Street, it was not a high class residential district. Molly pushed open the tattered door and walked up the stairs where each step creaked under her weight. The room was sparsely furnished and a man sat on a well-worn chair, whistling and looking out of the broken window, waiting for someone.

“You never told me of your name and I wondered how to address you.” Molly sat on the only other available chair. “Perhaps I should call you Mr Moriarty, Jim Moriarty to be exact.”

Moriarty snickered. “Trying to frame me by setting up Sherlock Holmes? How very twisted of you, Miss and I applauded you for it. But that was where you were wrong about ME!” His chair was knocked down to the floor and Moriarty came right up to Molly’s face.

“I could destroy Holmes’ career and reputation at any given time but where's the fun in that? No, no, no. I am far more interested to ruin him in a more personal level. I promised that one day I would burn the heart out of him and then you came. Nothing stood out about you yet you were able to grab Holmes’ attention. You were good, better than Miss Adler, I must say. The chink in his armor and you arrived at my doorstep.” Moriarty began to walk in circles around the room.

“You thought sending Watson and that landlady away would keep them safe, not to mention dear Holmes in jail right now. That was your second mistake; nowhere is ever safe from me. Let’s make this game a little bit more interesting, shall we? You have to kill yourself or else Watson, Mrs Hudson and of course Holmes would die. And the best part of it all is that you have to do it in front of him. Don’t worry; I assisted in making Holmes’ escape from his cell easier for he would escape.”

Moriarty checked his pocket watch. “You have two hours before they all dropped dead like flies. Also, no one could catch me when I’m already dead. Good day, Miss.” He drew out a gun, placed it into his mouth and fired. Molly recoiled and blood spluttered everywhere in the room. She sat back on the chair to gather her thoughts quickly.

The view from the rooftop of St. Bart's in Victorian times was definitely different from the 21st century but just as incredible. People did look like ants from up here. Molly thought it would be befitting to end everything at the same venue. She left a note to Holmes in 221B, asking him to come here. Molly guessed he would go straight there after his jail escape and she was proven right. Holmes walked slowly towards the ledge where Molly stood.  

“Stop. Here would do, Mr Holmes.” For once, the consulting detective did as he was told.

“I’m…Moriarty. I faked my amnesia so I could stay close to you. I planned everything, from stopping in front of your carriage right up to your arrest. I wanted to destroy you once and for all and I did it. The great consulting detective had become both a fake and a fugitive. How ironic. Your brother was right about me, you should never have trusted me.”

Molly pointed to her tears cascading down her cheeks. “See? They are tears of joy that I finally had defeated you! With my dream been achieved, there is nothing left for me here anymore. Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.” She fell backwards and Holmes anticipated her move, leaped forward and managed to grab Molly’s hand while the rest of her body dangled in the air. “Let go of my hand, Sherlock. You need to let me go!”

The consulting detective’s face was flushed from the exertion and veins from his forehead were becoming visible. “No, Molly.” Trust him to call her name only when she was about to die but better late than never. “I love you. I really do, Sherlock.” She murmured, not sure if he could hear it. Molly then hardened her heart and resolutely pulled her hand out of his grip.

She now understood that history would forever repeat itself if we did not learn from our previous mistakes. Molly’s mistake was falling in love with the consulting detective therefore the outcome would never change. If that was the case then it was one mistake she would never regret and always commit. Molly would gladly let Sherlock Holmes be the death of her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would try to explain everything in the end of this story (sort of) *running away cowardly*


	5. Thin Line Between Reality And Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.

Molly Hooper woke up in a 21st century hospital ward where various medical machines constantly made sounds as proof that the patient was still alive. After her discharge, Molly asked John to bring her to the consulting detective’s grave. It was the first time she visited him after his ‘death’. “Could I have some time with Sherlock by myself?” The doctor looked at her worryingly. “John, I would be fine on my own.”

John paled at the memory of seeing Sherlock jumped down from the roof and her attack ordered by Moriarty that followed. “He’s gone now and I could not bear to lose you too, Molly…”

“I’m so sorry, John. I promised that you would never lose me.” She squeezed his hand and gave a small smile.

“I would wait for you at the gate.” Molly looked on as John turned his head once every few steps, still worried about her. Now alone with the consulting detective, she was at lost for words. If Sherlock was here, he would ask Molly to stop thinking out loud and speak up.

“Well, I dreamt of you. A Victorian version of you actually. There was also John, Mrs Hudson, your brother, Greg and Moriarty. Silly, I know. We had great sex though,” Horrific that she said it out, Molly quickly added, “I-I mean in the dream but I framed you then Moriarty shoot himself in the mouth and I died…I’m a terrible storyteller huh?” She squatted in front of his grave and plucked the grass absentmindedly.

“Storytelling is really not your area. You should stick with being my pathologist.” Molly froze and thought she was hallucinating.

“And no, you were not hallucinating, Molly.” Sherlock answered for her as she stood back up and literally saw the man of her dreams. Molly did not realize she was crying until the consulting detective gently wiped her tears away.

“They needed to make sure that Moriarty did not also fake his death before I could come and see you. I’m sorry that it took me so long. You were injured because of me, Molly. Forgive me.” Sherlock looked thinner than he already was. She knew he went through a lot but everything would be alright now. Molly would wait for his ‘return’.  

“You are still alive and that’s the most important thing, Sherlock.” To confirm that she was not dreaming, Molly slipped her arms through his waist and rested her head on his chest while the consulting detective kissed her forehead. Sherlock’s heartbeat was the most beautiful music Molly ever heard.

She recalled something and broke off the hug. “I need to go, John is still waiting for me. He’s…coping.” Sherlock nodded as whirls of emotions momentarily clouded his eyes. “I would need to use your flat as my bolthole starting from tonight.”

“You are always welcome to stay in my place, Sherlock. I would see you later then. In the meanwhile, take care and be safe.” Molly kissed his cheek and walked away quickly, not wanting John to worry about her more than he already was.  

 

* * *

 

Feeling conscious about Sherlock’s impending stay, Molly decided to tidy up her house before his arrival while she put on the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. When Molly was rushed to the hospital, all the belongings that came with her were placed in a bag for safekeeping and returned to her when she left the hospital.

Molly emptied its contents and found the blood-stained clothes she was wearing on the day of attack, her phone, keys and some spare change. Before the clothes could be thrown away, a small card fell off.

_Sherlock Holmes_

_Consulting Detective_

_221B Baker Street, London_

Molly did not remember Sherlock ever using business cards; he just assumed everyone knew him. Besides, it looked antique, similar to calling cards of the past.

“Holmes…” Molly blurted out and for some reason, her heart ached at that form of address. It could not be. That was a dream. It had to be.

“Molly?” She screamed as Sherlock made his presence known. “You do know there is something called a door? Sooner or later, you are going to give me a heart attack.” Molly calmed herself down and exclaimed.

“Entering by the door is too conspicuous.” Her annoyance at his break-in disappeared after seeing the puppy eyes Molly always fell for and she was sure Sherlock knew very well what it does to her. Maddening man and she still love him, warts and all which he probably knew that too.

Sherlock stared at the lump of bloody clothes. “It’s not your fault, Sherlock. I’m fine now.” Molly touched his arm. “You mattered, Molly, more than you know.” They smiled softly at each other. The kettle whistled sharply and she went to turn off the stove.

“Coming, Molly?” Sherlock asked unexpectedly.

“What?” She replied, uncertain of what he was asking.

“To sleep, of course. We could have tea tomorrow morning instead.” Molly looked at the hand stretched out towards her then at the calling card lying on the table. Making a silent decision, she held Sherlock’s hand and made their way to her bedroom but not before looking at it for one last time.

If Molly had turned over the card, she would have noticed that someone wrote a message behind it.  

_Molly, I understand that you do not belong here with me._

_I wish you all the happiness in the world for you deserved it._

_Sherlock_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is to some extent my take on Molly's version of The Abominable Bride. It did crossed my mind to just let Holmes be with Molly but then what about our dear Sherlock? I believed that he needed her too still I felt bad for Holmes so I wrote two endings. 
> 
> WARNING: If you like this ending, do NOT read the next and final chapter which is the alternative ending!


	6. Defy The Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter is the alternative ending!

Molly ran her fingers through Sherlock’s curls affectionately as he slept soundly, exhausted from the crime fighting. She could not wave away the persistent thought of the calling card and it kept her awake. Her heart won the battle as Molly gingerly untangled herself from Sherlock and walked out of the bedroom.

Sitting on the sofa, she ran her thumb across the name printed on the card. Molly’s hand unconsciously turned it over and the message was almost instantly smudged by her tears that just could not seem to stop. Standing from the door of her bedroom, Sherlock looked on as Molly sobbed and even bit her hand to contain the cries while cradling the card to her chest with another. The two of them remained in the same position till dawn arrived then consulting detective left without his morning tea.

* * *

 

_Two years later_

221B felt too empty so Sherlock went to nurse his bloodied nose in Molly’s flat. “Here, nothing better than a cup of strong tea after being beaten up by your best friend.” She quipped and placed two cups on the table then went back to clean up the kitchen. Sherlock fished out Molly’s wallet from the bag lying nearby and opened it. The tear-stained card was in a hidden compartment of her wallet though not well-hidden enough from Sherlock. Before Molly came back, he poured a powdery substance into her cup and stirred it.

The consulting detective watched as she sipped the tea but looked away when he felt the tears began to build up. Sherlock had become weak because of Molly but it was worth it regardless of what Mycroft said. “What if I told you that you could go back?” Molly carefully placed the cup back on the table with trembling hands, not sure if she could still hold it properly.

“I had selflessly made you remain by my side for two years. I told myself that the day I returned would be the day you go back. Maybe that’s why I kept delaying my coming back because I did not want you to leave me. However I could see how the longing was eating you up and it hurts, Molly, seeing you in pain and trying to pretend otherwise but you couldn’t deceive me, you couldn’t deceive yourself.” Molly wanted to touch Sherlock’s hand but found no strength to do it. He must have spiked her tea.

“I missed my chance of happiness with you a long time ago and there’s no turning back in life. I would never find someone as wonderful as you and no one more undeserving for me. Promise me that you would be happy with him. Live my share of happiness because your happiness is also mine, Molly. I love you. It’s not that I don’t love you enough to want to be with you, I love you well enough to set you free and now I need to let you go.”

Ignoring Molly’s weak protests and tears, the consulting detective picked her up, stepped out of the flat and into the streets. It did not take long for a black sedan car to stop beside them. The ride to Mycroft’s office was silent as Molly experienced the full effects of the drug. Holding her, Sherlock tenderly smoothed Molly’s hair and kissed her on the lips for the very last time. He secretly hoped for the ride to be a little bit longer.    

Carrying Molly in his arms, Sherlock walked straight into Mycroft’s office and laid her on the sofa. “Send her back. You owned me a favour and now’s the time to return it. Send Molly back.”

The British Government sighed tiredly. “The time machine is not a toy to play with, Sherlock. We only allowed you to use it because Molly Hooper made Moriarty fell from St. Barts with her thus altering the course of events and we could not let that happen so we rewrote the history but time could never be tamed, that was the reason why Molly Hooper accidently entered another universe. You were lucky to come back alive. Who was to know what would happen this time round if she used the machine.”

Mycroft turned around and was stunned by the sight before him. “Please, Mycroft. I never begged of you for anything in my life until now. Please.” Sherlock knelt down in front of his brother with his head bent submissively, hiding the tears. “Is Molly Hooper really that important to you?” The British Government asked. “More than my own life.”

Mycroft shook his head at the answer and asked again. “No regrets?” Sherlock’s hands that were placed on his knees closed tightly in response and after a second of hesitation, “No.” The consulting detective then got up unsteadily and left the office without looking back because Sherlock was afraid he would regret his decision at the eleventh hour and want to take her back.  

 

* * *

 

Molly woke up after smelling something repulsive and quickly realised that she’s back in the Victorian times. After finding out what was initially thought to be a dream was in fact real, Molly believed she could act as if nothing happened and would stay by Sherlock’s side until one day he no longer needed her but Sherlock was right, Molly was just lying to him and herself. She loves Sherlock and would forever do so except Holmes was the one who truly owned her heart.

Molly walked towards 221B Baker Street with directions she knew by heart but suddenly halted when the pathologist thought of how much things could change within the span of two years and what if Holmes already moved on from her. “Miss? Is that you, Miss? You are back! Finally!” Billy shouted excitedly and tugged on her hand. “Billy? You had grown so tall!” The boy beamed proudly at the compliment but did not forget to pull Molly right up to the doorstep of 221B before she could even stop him.

“Master Holmes! Master Holmes, come on out! Miss is back! She’s back!” Molly panicked at the prospect of seeing the consulting detective again. The door opened and she froze when their eyes locked. Holmes went down the steps and Molly’s hand went up to touch his cheek, fearing that she was dreaming. “You finally came back, Molly.” Holmes’ hand followed and caressed hers. “I’m sorry for letting you wait such a long time for me.” He then pulled Molly into his arms. “The wait was worthwhile, my love.”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Molly?” John grumbled, he was still mad at Sherlock for faking his death and hiding the truth from him. “She has left the country and not coming back.” The doctor frowned and mumbled. “Sooner or later, you would end up with no friends.” The consulting detective smiled. “I would still have you as a friend.” John ignored him and stood up to make some tea. Sherlock took out the calling card and stared at it for few moments before safely putting it back into his pocket when John came back with two cups of tea.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were two Sherlock Holmes and only one Molly Hooper so there was bound to be one of them not getting the girl so to speak. I had been thinking about it for days and I decided to do two endings instead because I love both Sherlock Holmes :)
> 
> I did mention that I'm asking for trouble writing this story, haha. Nevertheless, as per usual I had great fun writing it and I appreciated every reader that managed to read from start till end :D


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